Moving on
by Lithium223
Summary: Sunstreaker has been depressed since his break up with Tracks and can't seem to come to terms with it


I thought of this while listening to the song So Sick by Ne-Yo

Disclaimer: transformers don't belong to me

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Sunstreaker laid on his berth listening to the radio. It had been five weeks since he had broken up with Tracks and it was starting to piss him off that he couldn't even listen to the radio without thinking of the corvette. For some reason all the songs reminded him of the failed relationship; especially the song that was currently playing.

_I'm so sick of love songs. So tired of tears_

_So done with wishing you were still here._

Growling, the front liner grabbed the radio and threw it the opposite wall, smashing it to pieces. He flopped back on the berth and turned his back to the room when he heard his twin come in. Sunstreaker couldn't stop the flare of annoyance that flashed through his frame when he couldn't stop thinking of the song that made him break the radio. Sunstreaker initiated his recharge cycle, hoping that sleep would quiet his mind and ease the pain in his chest.

The next morning, Sunstreaker's mood hadn't improved. Now, the golden warrior laid on his berth staring at the ceiling, even more annoyed than the night before, due to dreams involving Tracks. Tracks was the last person Sunstreaker wanted to think about right now, especially when the winged mech had just walked out on him.

His spark throbbed as he recalled the day Tracks left. It had started with another fight. Sunstreaker knew he shouldn't have pushed his lover, he knew that Tracks would take the hateful comments and harsh words to spark. Sunstreaker still remembered watching the hurt shimmer in Tracks' optics before hardness set in. Then in his anger he had stormed off to report in for patrol and when he returned…

Tracks was gone.

It had taken three days for Sunstreaker to swallow his pride and apologize, but by then it was too late. Tracks had had enough and nothing Sunstreaker could say would change his mind.

Two weeks after that, Tracks had hooked up with Blaster. It made Sunstreaker's tanks roil with rage and jealousy every time he thought about it.

Sunstreaker rubbed his optics as he checked his chronometer. His spark withered when he realized that a week from today would have been his and Tracks' anniversary. Steeling his resolve, Sunstreaker swallowed his self-pity and got up. He didn't have to report in for monitor duty till later this afternoon, so had plenty of time to get to the rec. room and refuel.

Thoughts of Tracks haunted Sunstreaker as he walked to the rec. room. He struggled to ignore his broken spark and not think of Tracks. What else could he do; it was over. He had to move on. Which was easier said than done.

Inside, he was being torn apart by his depression and frustration. His depression from losing the light Tracks brought to his life and his frustration at his inability to forget the cherry faceplate, sparkling blue optics, and the fluttering white wings.

Enough was enough. It was over. Sunstreaker was stronger than this. He has had dozens of lovers. He has left mecha and has been left by mecha. Tracks wasn't any special. There was nothing about the corvette that the Lamborghini couldn't get over… in time.

As Sunstreaker drew closer to the rec. room he could hear whistling, cat calls and woops of laughter. He stepped into the room as the doors whizzed opened and immediately wished he hadn't.

Every other Autobot in the room was busy being entertained by the sight of Tracks kissing the slag out of a very smug Blaster.

For a brief moment, all Sunstreaker could see was red. Clenching his fists, he turned on his heel and stormed away from the rec. room as fast as he could. Images of Tracks and Blaster filled Sunstreaker's cortex as rage bubbled inside his body as he went to the shooting range.

Sunstreaker stood in the shooting range. Growling, as he fired shot after shot, trying to ignore the ache that filled his spark when he saw Tracks smiling for that idiot. The gunshots continued to echo through the room, as the golden warrior was overwhelmed by the moments he shared with the winged mech and all the times they were happy together.

What happened to all their plans? Everything they swore to do together once the war ended?

Tracks had told him that he always wanted to have children. Sunstreaker wouldn't lie; he was bothered by it at first. The idea of having sparklings never sat well with him. They were a huge responsibility and required love and care, care Sunstreaker wasn't sure he could provide. But the longer he and Tracks were together, the more he thought about it the better it sounded.

There were times when Sunstreaker would look at his lover and imagine what it'd be like for them to have a family, and thought, yes. Perhaps one day they would have a child, someone that would be the best of them and then some.

Now, that future was gone. And there was nothing Sunstreaker could do about it. Tracks had moved on and looked as if he was happier without the golden mech.

Sunstreaker stopped shooting, when he heard the empty click of his rifle. He had used all his ammo. Sighing, the golden moved away from the targets and sat against the opposite wall, with his rifle leaning against him.

The fury from the sight of Tracks and Blaster had left him, but Sunstreaker could still feel the pain of his broken spark. He had loved Tracks. Now, now there was nothing between them.

Sunstreaker let loose another sigh. He was better than this, or he used to be. But then Tracks wheedled his way into the proud mech's defenses and left him devastated when he left. Now what was he supposed to do?

Sunstreaker sat on the floor of the shooting range a few moments longer, indulging in his self pity. After awhile he checked his chronometer and was mildly surprised to find he had twenty minutes before he had to report for monitor duty. Could he handle getting up and having to face reality again?

Yes. Yes he could. Because Sunstreaker was stronger than this. It would be hard, but he could and would do it. He loved Tracks, but it was obvious the corvette had moved on. And it was time he did the same.

Sunstreaker stood and put his rifle away. His spark still hurt, there was no denying that. However, it would heal and once it did, he might even have another go at love. But for now, all he could do was let go of the past and move forward.

With one more intake of air, Sunstreaker braced himself for the world. Then with five minutes before his shift, he strode out of the shooting range his head held high.


End file.
